


Dance With Me

by scienceandsimplicities



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dancing is one of the best foreplays, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4852115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scienceandsimplicities/pseuds/scienceandsimplicities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 2. It had never crossed Clarke's mind how the Grounder's might dance. The peace celebration between the Trikru and Skaikru changes this. Looking upon the intimate entanglement of bodies, her mind wonders if she could move like that too. A certain Commander might just help her find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance With Me

**Author's Note:**

> My first public fic (tho not quite my first attempt), after reading (probably way too) many of them. Lets call this a post-graduation, when Im not doing the science, how the hell do I spend my free time as a so called adult... endeavor. Thank you to Jess for reading my stuff and listening to my thoughts. This started as a "hey you know what would be cool to see" text to them, and ended a ~50 text-long story, which I later added to and edited. Please comment at your leisure and constructive criticism is always welcome, especially if this endeavor happens to happen again.

It’s a festival to celebrate the peace of two peoples, the sharing of two cultures, the reformation of an alliance, and the reconciliation between leaders.

After Clarke had walked away from Camp Jaha, she set out to Polis, fueled by fury and understanding and frustration at the understanding.

A week later she literally stumbled to the gates, dehydrated and half starved.

The moment she regained her feet she stormed to Lexa’s dwelling.

She yelled and flailed and accused.

Lexa watched and listened with bowed head, but otherwise did not respond. Clarke didn’t expect her to nor did she want her to. The silence after her rampage was deafening and so Clarke attempted to lessen it with a whisper.

“You kissed me and then walked away. I understand, and I hate that”

She walked out the door without another look at Lexa and Lexa’s eyes followed her, hopefully.

Clarke stayed in Polis, drawn in and kept there by its livening energy. She explored and learned. She began to care for the people she encountered, and the weight of the burden of her actions at the mountain were lessened with every smile from the people who benefited from what she did.

She made it a goal to get Lexa to smile for her. But first, she had to speak to her.

Tiptoeing words turned to easy sentences and then to flowing conversations. They talked childhood and politics, space and the ground, and the renewal of an alliance.

Clarke drew and Lexa read her poetry.

Clarke left Lexa with a hug.

She came back two weeks later with a small council and a secret embrace.

In between meetings and discussions Lexa showed Clarke the secrets of Polis and knowledge of the surrounding trees.

Clarke showed Lexa the stars.

Clarke spent time in TonDC to help rebuilding efforts.

She left Lexa with a kiss on the cheek and received a shy blush. She cataloged its hue of red and stowed it away for future use, inspired to discover the rest of the ways she could flush the other woman's typically stoic profile and revel in the contrast created. 

She returned to Polis with a feeling of home. She returned to her tent full of art supplies.

In return she kissed Lexa, fully and wholly. It continued like this in the weeks of peace making between people and leaders: stolen moments, wisdom shared, hidden kisses, falling asleep in one another’s arms, and just once the opportunity seized to take a day of leisure and laughter at a nearby lake.

Clarke learned how to swim and Lexa learned what a bikini was.

Clarke drew, Lexa watched. Clarke drew Lexa.

Lexa taught Clarke how to spar and Clarke learned how the Commander flirts.

So the festival was proposed, plans were made, and the two women had scarce contact during the preparations.

The first time they saw each other that night was at dinner. Seated a few chairs always from each other, the entirety of the dinner was filled with furtive glances, eyes sparkling under candlelight, and smiles hidden by food. Afterwards, the tables were cleared to make room for mingling and dancing.

Lincoln and Octavia are among the first on the dance floor, both as excited as the other. Octavia’s eagerness clouds her patience as she stumbles over the footwork of the formal dance currently being performed. Lincoln laughs at his girlfriend’s lack of elegance and Octavia glares at him.

“It’s supposed to be graceful, seemingly simple to onlookers, but as you can tell more complicated to create, all the while still demanding exertion—reflective of how we live our lives and how we fight.”

“Ok. I get that. But I also just thought -- I don’t know. I imagined the Grounder’s dancing to be much more… physical. If you know what I mean.” Octavia is intimately familiar with the way Lincoln can move, and had based her expectations off this.

Lincoln replies with a smirk. “Just wait, Oktavia kom Trikru.”

Clarke can feel her approach before she sees or hears her. Standing side by side, Lexa holds out her hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

When Clarke accepts the hand it is to the surprise of many and to the predictions of some. The Trikru had never seen their Heda dance before, but they’ve seen her with Clarke. Sweaty palms and a stuttering heart, Clarke wants to make a good impression, on both the Grounders watching and on Lexa.

It takes her a few verses of slow steps and whispered instructions before Clarke learns. They continue, imperfectly, for a short time dancing in Grounder tradition while they make their own. Few words are exchanged beyond Lexa commenting on how much she enjoys Clarke in her people’s clothes and complimenting Clarke’s braids, saying she’ll have to do them for her sometime.

“Beautiful, Clarke. You are beautiful.”

Clarke’s eyes drop to their feet under Lexa’s intense gaze, and Lexa admires Clarke's blush in the firelight, chest swelling with pride at being its cause.

“I apologize that I have never told you before. I promise to do so more often if you do not mind.”

Clarke looks back up then, smiling radiantly, and shakes her head once, no, I do not, before they fall into a comfortable silence. She vows to return the compliment by the end of the night.

The song ends and Lexa is swept into Commander duties. The last of the sunlight fades and the drinks are passed more frequently.

The music shifts from light and peaceful, to something much more drum heavy, rhythmic and visceral. The beats pound into the ground, the earth that they live on and survive off, and the ground returns those vibrations and life into the people it sustains.

Octavia’s eyes light up at the transition in energy, and Lincoln, noticing this, pulls her onto the dance floor with the many others who have filled it. She is pulled into his body quickly and is overjoyed at the lack of footwork necessary to keep up with this beat. Instead they are shook by the ground beneath and swayed by the soundwaves in the air, their bodies rolling together in a dance they already know.

After conversing with other leaders and shrugging off questions from her friends who dared to ask questions about her and Lexa, Clarke finds herself drawn once more to the sea of bodies on the dance floor. The music is entrancing and the way people are moving with their partners is as intoxicating as the liquor in Clarke’s veins. Her mind wanders and wonders if she would be able to move like that, if Lexa can too, and if Lexa could show her.

As if on cue, Clarke’s catches green eyes a short distance away. Lexa had been watching Clarke watch the dancing for a short while. Her body aches to express herself in such a way, to fulfill the curiosities written across Clarke’s face.

Lexa looks from the dance floor and back to Clarke. She quirks an eyebrow up, wordlessly asking Clarke if she liked what she sees. Clarke cocks her head to the side, half of her mouth turned upwards in approval, eyes challenging Lexa’s. The Commander nods confidently and flicks her head backward before turning around and strutting off into the darkness.

_Follow me._

And Clarke does.

The commander goes to the outskirts of the camp where a guard is posted and promptly relieves her of her duties. She is alone with her back turned when Clarke approaches. They are far away enough not to be seen easily, but the moon is bright enough to highlight their figures. The glow lingering from the fire illuminates one side of Clarke’s face and casts a shadow on the other. They haven’t moved far from the drums so the music is still very much present in the air and beneath their feet.

Clarke clears her throat to get the other woman’s attention. When Lexa turns, the way she looks at Clarke is a mixture of thrilled, nervous, and nearly predatory.

“Dance with me?” she asks as she holds her hand out.

Clarke can’t find her voice, too stunned by Lexa’s beauty and the way the effect of her ceremonial warpaint is enhanced by the night’s lighting. She nods her head but can’t seem to move her legs.

Lexa smirks and waits. She needs Clarke to come to her. These last few months, Clarke has set their pace of their interactions and Lexa has followed them willingly, knowingly, doing everything she can to earn the blonde’s trust again.

After a few heartbeats, Clarke takes the few steps forward and slides her hand into the outstretched one. She is immediately whirled around and pulled against Lexa’s body. Clarke is caught off guard and basically trips over her own feet and falls into the body behind her, yet Lexa catches her like it was all part of the plan.

Lexa’s arms wrap around the blonde’s waist and Clarke can’t seem to catch her breath. Lexa has only held her like this at night and only after she has fallen asleep. She has not yet had the gift of waking up next to the Commander, entangled.

“Is this ok?” Lexa dips her head slightly to whisper into Clarke’s ear.

Clarke’s inhales shakily and leans further into Lexa on the exhale, while her eyes flutter close. Lexa takes this as a yes. Her body is still stiff against Lexa’s despite accepting the embrace. There’s a hesitation told by her body, a hesitation to let herself be enveloped by trust and _Lexa_.

“Relax, Clarke. It’s just me.” Lexa opens her hands at Clarke’s hips and rubs up to just to the expansion of the ribcage under her palms and down to the peak of the swell of hip – purposed to comfort then coax and ultimately soothe the winged skyborne creature in her arms who was still finding her feet on the ground.

“Yeah,” Clarke whispers, still breathless and attempting to remember how to fill her lungs. “That’s part of it.” And Clarke knows this viscerally, as every breath she takes is filled with dispersed smoke, rain soaked forest and dirt, and Lexa’s musk – a distinct combination of all of those things and something uniquely unnameable.

Lexa just hums next to her ear and Clarke melts against the body behind her. The Commander proudly smirks at the new weight in her arms, marveling at the simplicity of the action needed to achieve her goal. For all the complexities of their characters, their past stories and the current states, Clarke is so affected by a modest vibration and Lexa knows she would be too.

“I haven’t danced much before,” the timidity evident in Clarke's tone.

“It’s ok.” Lexa responds as reassuringly as possible. Because it is ok. Lexa doesn’t care if Clarke has two left feet and a tin ear. She will stumble around with Clarke to an asymmetric beat they’ve created in their heads all night, as long as she doesn’t have to let go of the sky girl.

“I’ll show you everything.” Lexa says confidently because there’s a tug in her mind, a notion that an uncoordinated, tone-deaf Clarke is far from the truth. She’s seen the way the leader moves through the world and pays attention to detail with an artist’s eye, and Lexa want nothing more than to test her theory tonight.

“Close your eyes, Clarke, and just feel.” Lexa allows her this action and a few moments to adjust the scope of her brain to sensation with minimal perception.

“Now mimic my stance.” Clarke bends her knees just slightly and leans further into Lexa’s body to take in its mold. Unsure of what to do with her hands, she leaves one at her side while the other she places across her body and on top of Lexa’s, whose hands have not let up the grip on her hips. Again, Lexa waits for Clarke to get comfortable in this position before she starts slowly swaying her hips. Just side to side. Just to start. Clarke sighs at the feeling and within a few beats picks up the motions of the hips and hand guiding her.

“Listen to the music, Clarke. Move with what you hear. Move how you imagine the music to be moving the air and how the air moves around the music.”

Clarke stalls and thinks and her attempt knock them off rhythm. Her hips bump awkwardly with Lexa’s. She immediately straightens her posture and dips her head to hide her blush while apologizing. Lexa stands with Clarke and wraps her arms to fully encompass the waist in front of her.

The brunette rests her forehead against the side of Clarkes, places a feather-like kiss into golden braids and whispers, “Klark”, heavily emphasizing the “k” consonants in a reverential intonation made only for the woman with whom Lexa was so taken.

“Let’s try again Skai Heda.” Clarke, encouraged by Lexa’s patience and soothing tone, bends at the knees and Lexa follows, keeping one arm nearly fully encircled around her waist while the other hand moves back to her hip. It’s Clarke this time who starts the sway. Once she seems settled in their rhythm, Lexa encourages her to find new facets within the music.

“Do you feel the music, Clarke?” A head nod in response. “Ok then move with it. Move with me.”

As soon as the words leave Lexa’s mouth she rolls her hips into Clarke’s with the bass of the drums. Clarkes gasp is only audible because of the proximity of Lexa’s ear to her face, and the noise is quickly swallowed by the next drum beat. Clarke’s rampant nerves cause her hips to stall again. Lexa waits another moment before repeating the motion and is again met with an unwavering body.

“Stop thinking Clarke, and trust this.” Lexa didn’t intend the double meaning, but nonetheless they cut through Clarke's resolve effectively.

After the initial pause, Lexa’s had continued their forward motion, waiting for reciprocation. The moment the brunette’s words register, Clarke sinks into Lexa’s stance and challengingly rolls her hips back into Lexa’s just a second before Lexa’s do. _I do trust you_ – a phrase that Clarke has not yet spoken to Lexa since they reestablished the alliance, but the message is still conveyed by her body. Lexa drops her head onto Clarkes shoulder, sighing at the contact. Clarke smirks victoriously at her progress and the effect she has on in the Commander.

“Good Clarke. That’s… good” Lexa breathe out against Clarke’s cheek, and breathes in Clarke. For sake of maintaining some semblance of control Lexa refrains from burying her face entirely in blonde hair and a slim neck, immersing herself in Clarke’s scent.

Clarke, for once, doesn’t think. She lets the music into her mind and Lexa into her heart. She starts allowing herself to move in the ways she knows her body wants to feel the Commander.

The music picks up tempo and their hips follow. With every forward motion of Lexa behind her, Clarke follows it nearly to its peak until she grind back, leading Lexa’s hips with her own. Their push and pull, just a half beat offset but complementary to each other creates the best friction Clarke has ever experienced.

She wants more. She wants to be behind Lexa, she wants to be facing Lexa, she wants Lexa’s hand to roam. She wants Lexa.

And more she does get. The music slows again just slightly, and Lexa takes the opportunity to shift. She takes a step to the side, and bends just a little more at the knees and hip. She then pulls Clarke back further so that the blonde is straddling her thigh. Their rhythms also shift slightly to better suit their new position. With every roll of Clarkes hips downward, Lexa flexes hers up. They’ve slowed just enough that they can feel every prolonged drag of cloth against cloth and cloth against skin.

Clarke’s breath is heavy, her body is on fire, and she knows it’s not just from physical exertion. One of the hands on gripping Clarke’s hips slides down to grasp the top of her thigh, while the other slides Clarke’s hair away from her neck. At the first touch of Lexa’s lips to the skin of her shoulder, Clarke’s body jolts forward. Lexa wastes no time pulling the electrified body back into hers to maintain the circuit of their skin energized by the music in the air. The find their rhythm again as if it was never lost.

Lexa kisses a line to the base of Clarke’s neck, which has strains to the side in order to make room for the Commander’s attentions. Although Lexa can’t hear the whimper, she feels the shiver run down Clarke’s body and into her own when she places a slow kiss at the juncture of the neck beneath her mouth. The receptivity of the body in her arms quickly becomes an addiction and Lexa lingers at the spot, hoping to elicit more reactions from the blonde. She opens her mouth slightly to suck in the hollow right above Clarke’s collarbone, scraping her teeth along the bone.

The response she receives is glorious. Clarke’s head falls back to rest against her partner’s shoulder, while her hand slips and entangles itself into chestnut hair, under intricate braids. Lexa continues her ministrations at the open and willing neck. She moves to the raised muscle in Clarke’s neck, nips at the protrusion, and then soothes it with the flat of her tongue.

Clarke's hand clenches at the back of the other woman’s head, seeking support rather than attempting to provide guidance. The other laces with Lexa’s at her thigh. Her thoughts are clouded but she’s never been so sure of what she wants. She grounds hard back into Lexa forcing the Commander to release from the spot where her lips had found a temporary home. Clarke uses the opportunity to tug gently but insistently on brunette hair laced in her fist to force the head back from her neck. As soon as space is made available she turns to meet the parted lips still reeling from the loss.

Lexa’s eyes flutter close at feeling of Clarke’s lips on hers, while Clarke takes advantage of the Commander’s stunned state to control the kiss. When her knees weaken at the way the blonde suckles on her bottom lip hungrily, Lexa is shaken back to consciousness, driven by the instinct to catch the fall of their bodies.

When their tongues meet, Clarke swallows a moan that isn’t hers and the _Heda_ within Lexa awakens, pushing into Clarke solidly and licking up into her mouth. Her hands begin the roam the body beneath. The hand resting on the blonde’s thigh follows the arch inward until her fingers are just below the juncture of tight brown pants, and then travels upward tracing along the V. Clarke’s hips instinctively buck forward at the barely-there contact causing her to tear away from Lexa’s lips both in surprise and at the sudden lack of air in her lungs. The hand moves back to splay a waist, middle finger dipping just underneath the waistband of Clarke’s, index finger and thumb slipping under her shirt to pause under a bellybutton.

Lexa uses said hand to carefully guide the body back to hers, slowly slipping her thigh between Clarke’s and lifting it just enough until Clarke bucks down uncontrollably with a strangled cry. Lexa only hums proudly as her hand at Clarke’s neck meanders downward, palm taking in every curve while her finger tease at the side Clarkes breast. It rests at the blonde ribs, hesitant to continue. This lasts only a few beats until Clarke takes action, resting her hand over Lexa’s wrist and moving it inwards. The Commander’s thumb teases the underside of a breast, exposed by their movements that had shifted her binding slightly upward. Their palms come to rest in between the arches of a ribcage with the tip of Lexa’s thumb snug at the start of cleavage.

Clarke, unable to keep her eyes open, releases a sigh of contentment at their positioning and settles into a new rhythm created by their hips. Lexa takes this sign of comfortability as a green light and continues her exploration of the sky girl’s neck, starting with sucking lightly behind her ear, which she learns in a sensitive spot for the blonde based on the vibration that travels to her lips and the twitch of the hand in her hair.

Their movements become shortened rather than languid; growing rougher with every circle drawn, continually seeking more contact with every pull and more friction with every push. The roll is quick but the grind is slow and neither can get enough. Every once in a while Lexa surprises her partner by using the hand at Clarkes hip to crash their bodies together or add just a little more pressure to their already molded forms, just to feel the reaction from the woman below her.

At Clarke's pulse point, Lexa swipes at the pounding skin with her tongue just once, then again, then in time with every other drum beat, and finally, just briefly, in time with Clarke heartbeat-- quick, relentless, and hoping to relay intentions where else these talents of her tongue could be used when Clarke is ready. Clarke’s breath stutters and gasps, while her hand follow her thoughts and guides Lexa’s downward.

Before it can get far, Clarke is halted by the attention Lexa is lavishing on her jawline, nipping once before sucking her earlobe between her lips, nibbling lightly, before scraping and tugging it with her teeth. Clarke keen is hidden by the drums, only heard by Lexa, and she crumbles. She bucks back and down against Lexa just right so that Lexa’s grind forward rubs the apex of her thighs upward against the entire curve of Clarke’s ass. Lexa immediately releases the earlobe, grip tight on hips as they sink back down, and her breathe as harsh pants against the shell of Clarke's ear.

Clarke acts.

She turns swiftly towards Lexa’s unoccupied thigh and straddles it. At the sight of Lexa her insides clench wonderfully and her thighs squeeze against the Commander’s. Mouth gaped, pupils blown, hair tussled, she has never seen Lexa so expressive, and nearly vulnerable, and she is left breathless at the beauty before her. Two years ago she never figured that a woman would be one of the earthborn wonders that she would encounter, and she marvels at how falling from the sky would lead her to such a gift. Clarke has never affected and been so affected.

She is emboldened by the power coursing through her to Lexa and back. One hand untangles itself from brown curls to cup the back of the Commander’s neck and the other wraps itself around to grip at the opposite shoulder. She uses her position to leverage her body against Lexa’s and flexes upwards, pulling with her shoulders and clenching her abs, she rubs herself slowly, tauntingly against the Lexa’s abs. She pulls back and lowers to grind down and forward against the thigh between hers. When hips contact hips and then waist with the next upward motion of her body, she bends her knee with the momentum to allow her Heda similar contact. She is rewarded with hands swiftly shifting from their grasp on Clarke’s waist to her grip ass in order guide the movement of her hips to bring their bodies even closer.

Clarke’s body relaxes and back straightens. Her breasts hover just below Lexa’s eyeline and the Commander can’t help watch as they retreat, moving down over her own. Clarke watches the brunette’s fixation on her cleavage and is delighted at the Heda’s gasp at the sensation of their chests together. Their hips settle into one another and Lexa’s hands slide up beneath Clarke’s shirt to rest at the dip above the curves of Clarke’s waist, fingers clutching at the ridged muscles lining Clarke’s spine, while the Commander’s eyes rise as well.

When green meets blue, everything stops.

Lexa’s eyes bore into Clarke’s. After a few moments the blonde begins to shy away from the confident momentum she had started. Her breathing evens but her heart is still racing at Lexa’s proximity and the way the Commander is looking at Clarke with need and hunger.

Lexa notices the change in Clarke’s demeanor and her eyes soften to a gaze of admiration and devotion for the wonder in her arms. She knows she has been gifted a side of Clarke no one has ever seen before and she cherishes that she was the one who was able to bring it out.

“Clarke…”

Whatever she was about to say drifts off into the still pulsating air of the night when the hand at her neck comes to grip her jaw, cup her cheek, and it thumb stroke over her lips. Clarke shivers at the octave and rasp of Lexa’s voice and wonders if hers would sound similarly.

“Lexa.”

It does.

Lexa’s eyes dart eagerly to Clarke’s lips and then back to her eyes, with no attempt to hide the hope in them. And how could Clarke deny? She leans forward and captures her Commander’s lips. Despite their heated exchange during their dancing, this first touch is hesitant, yet full. It’s unmoving but lasting. Clarke pulls back and rests her foreheads on Lexa’s. And then she smiles as if she is unable to do anything else. Inspired, Lexa smiles too, uninhibited, and Clarke has never seen anything more beautiful. Under the moonlight they find joy, Lexa swoons, and Clarke falls.

“So beautiful,” Clarkes rasps, brushing her nose against Lexa’s.

The second kiss, when Lexa leans back in, seeking, is exploratory. It is a bit more knowing, and so a bit more comfortable, but it is learning too. It is still slow, with tongues and teeth grazing, and moans mixed with sighs and shared breath. When Clarke pulls away again she is weighted by emotions, buries her face in Lexa’s neck, and inhales comfort.

Lexa squeezes her hold on Clarke because she understands the moment when the feelings hit and are a little too much. She didn’t have Clarke in her arms then, but she does now. So she goes there again with Clarke, and burrows herself as well, whispering adorations and everythings into blonde hair.

When Clarke comes to, she remembers where they are in space and time. Her senses return in one swift gust, the music rushing to her ears as Lexa’s scent fills her lungs and blood courses through her vein sensitizing every point of their contact. She pulls her head away slowly, brushing her nose along the side of Lexa’s face as she goes, and nips teasingly at the plump lips she finds.

Lexa, again, instantly notices the shift in Clarke’s eyes, from vulnerable to excited and eager, as well as the shift in her body as the confidence returns, told by the way Clarke hovers her face just above Lexa’s using the sturdy shoulders beneath her as her perch.

God, is Lexa ready for her.

Still bent at the hips, Lexa helps lift the woman just a little higher – a reminder of her prowess even though she would let Clarke top her any day. The blonde lowers herself back onto Lexa’s solid frame, letting her body slide and writhe down the front of the Commander without an inch of space between them. The moment hips meet hips, Clarke syncs them to the drum beats, using the thigh in between hers as her guide for constant contact, and Lexa allows herself to be taken for the ride. Clarke’s hands clutch almost desperately at Lexa’s shoulders. One of Lexa’s hands find base on the small of Clarke’s back, while the other slides down along the arc of the body against hers, coming to rest midway on the thigh that is now wrapped securely around Lexa’s lower hip.

The force of the grind of their hips is enough, but every now and then their hands claw, nails scrape, Clarke’s draped thigh squeezes to collide their bodies, increase the pressure of their momentum, with the pound of a beat. Clarke’s forehead has been rested upon Lexa’s, eyes clenched, bottom lip caught between her teeth, unable to do anything but focus on the sensations running through her. The Commander basks in the beauty of the blue eyed sky above her.

“ _Klark_.”

“Look at me, _Skai Heda_.”

As soon as she opens her eyes, Clarke nearly has to shut them again against the wave of emotions caused by the way reverent way Lexa is watching her. She finds strength in the body fitted into hers, enough to keep her eyes locked on the forest below her, breathing into the small space between them, stoking the flames of the fire shared by their bodies with every exhale. She leans in brushing her lips against the Heda’s top one, then taking the bottom one fully in her mouth, releasing it slowly with a pop. The contrast of the softness of Clarke’s lips and her kiss, with the strong friction of their hips, unhinges Lexa.

Lexa pulls at Clarke’s waist, encouraging the blonde to initiate quick rolls down and against her thigh. With every pass, the next one is slightly quickened, slightly harder than the one before. Clarke’s pants in Lexa’s ear are laced with whimpers at her rapid, unceasing pace. Her eyes roll back into head at the overwhelming pleasure, while her hips desperately seek something not yet attainable. The build in her lower stomach becomes unbearable, so kisses Lexa with all the attention she has left to give. It’s messy and jolted and as ragged as their breathes but so, so good. The pace of their hips matches the pulse of their hearts, more fluid that the stuttered tempo of their breaths.

Enraptured in the kiss and the body writhing against her own, Lexa pulls at Clarke’s ass causing her apex to rub deliciously against Lexa’s thigh with renewed force. It’s enough to cause Clarke to break the kiss, her control on the verge of shattering into a release that she has never quite experienced before. She uses the hand behind Lexa’s neck to pull her body in and place a kiss below the brunette’s ear.

“Lexa…” she chokes out, feebly, just enough that the Commander barely feels the vibration against her neck.

“Lex, I…”

It’s audible this time, her voice laced with vulnerability and concern. Lexa knows by tone of her partner’s voice and the yield in the body above hers that they need to stop or else she might put Clarke in a position she isn’t ready for.

The Commander slows their bodies and eases them out of their rhythm until they are left standing in each other’s arms, wrapped in an intimate embrace.

“I don’t wanna push you Clarke. I apologize if I crossed a line. I promise we will only do what you are comfortable with and I will wait as long as it takes for you to be ready.” Clarke falls just a little harder for Lexa in that moment, looking at the other woman in awe as she strokes her face.

“Oh no, Lex… you didn’t. I wanted this. I still want this. Just…” She quiets and looks shyly at the ground. Lexa watches her with curiosity and waits. When Clarke looks back up, she has decision in her eyes, and determination written on her face.

“Just not here.”

Realization hits Lexa just as Clarke states,

“Take me to your tent, Lexa.”

Lexa studies her face for any uncertainty. When she finds none, her heart beats wildly and she places a kiss of promise upon swollen lips. That night there’s is no hesitation, and there is no faltering. There are steady hands and trust and a rhythm Lexa has already shown Clarke and that Clarke now knows in her bones, which continues well into the night even after the drum beats have ceased.


End file.
